


When I'm Away from You

by ramblingsofamadnb



Series: HarleyIvyweek2016 [3]
Category: Bombshells (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: A lot of things referenced are from the bombshells comics, Airplanes, Alternate Universe - World War II, Dubious History, Established Relationship, F/F, Harley is a pilot, Hopefully I wrote Kara's English in a way that makes sense, I don't know that much about the differences between English and Russian, Ivy is French, Ivy is a radio operator, Kara is Russian, Kidnapping, Light Angst, So I asked the internet, some french
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 05:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14465913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblingsofamadnb/pseuds/ramblingsofamadnb
Summary: HarleyIvyWeek Day 3: Bad girls gone goodOn a mission for the bombshells, Harley is captured by the Germans and taken in for questioning. Ivy has to get her back.





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Elle sera bien: She'll be ok

“Ground to tyro. Request to return, pilot 297. Over.”

The statement crackled through the plane’s state of the art radio. Harley fumbled with the controls briefly.

“Tyro to ground. Noted. Returnin’ to base, miss sexy radio operator. Over.”

On the other end of the line, Harleen could practically hear her girlfriend’s blush. “Pilot, you are reminded that this kind of language is unprofessional, and that everything you say is being recorded.”

Harley grinned. “You betcha. Turning off transmissions until further notice.”

She flipped the off switch on the dash and sighed contentedly. “Stay away from the war, they said,” she mused aloud to herself. “You don’t want to be around these kinds of men, they said. Ha! They didn’t mention the ladies, that’s for sure!”

“Ground to tyro,” a voice crackled suddenly over the comms.

“Huh? But I turned that thing off!”

Another crackle, and then Harleen heard a vaguely German sounding language being spoken. The static went away and suddenly she was terrified, more terrified than she had ever been in a plane. Hell, the air was her _element_! She’d been in planes since the moment she could walk! The language on the radio changed abruptly to English.

“Ground to Tyro,” the voice said. “Apologies pilot. We received a small interference on your communications. You can rest assured that we are doing our best to fix these issues.”

Harley’s hands were shaking. “Hey now, you ain’t the gal who runs my communi-ma-bobs. Who are ya?”

“Miss Isley has signed off for the day, pilot.”

“That ain’t her name,” Harley growled, in a complete lie. “And you ain’t an English radio gal. Get off these fucking comms.”

The voice changed slightly. “Watch your language pilot.”

“Oh, you little—"

“Harleen Quinzel, look to your right, will you?”

Harleen’s heart pounded in her chest. She looked to her right.

A Nazi plane had flown down next to her during her conversation with the woman on the other side of the comms. Dimly, Harley heard her begin to speak again.

“Ms. Quinzel, you will follow this plane and land at its destination. If you disobey in any way, you will be shot down. Is this clear?”

Harley couldn’t speak.

“Ms.Quinzel, _is this clear?_ ”

Harleen gripped the wheel tighter. “Yes.”

The plane to her right veered off into the darkness, and Harley followed it.

* * *

Ivy couldn’t stop pacing.

Harleen had gone radio dark almost three hours ago. It wasn’t that she wasn’t allowed to but— _elle_ _sera bien, elle sera bien_ —she should have been back by now.

“ _Merde_!” Ivy shouted, causing a few women to stare. “Sorry,” she added, in a softer voice. One of the women—Diana—nodded.

“It’s alright, sister,” she said, standing. She moved to put an arm around Ivy’s shoulders. “Every warrior feels fear when her comrade is missing.”

Ivy nodded slightly. “I know,” she murmured.

“Miss Isley? Message for you.”

Ivy looked to the door, where one of the higher-ranking AVA women stood. She swallowed. Diana squeezed her upper arm gently.

“Would you like me to come with?” She asked. “I am sure Ms. Waller will allow it.”

Ivy just nodded again. They walked to the door and followed the message-woman together. She didn’t say anything else, but led them down the hallway.

“Right here, ladies,” she said, reaching a halt. The door which she stood in front of held a gold-painted plaque that read, in boldface capital letters, “AMANDA WALLER”. Diana reached a firm hand and rapped on the hardwood.

“Come in.”

Diana pushed open the door, Ivy following behind her. “Bombshells,” Waller addressed them strictly. “Have a seat.”

The two sat in the armchairs offered to them—the only ones in the compound.  Three cups of tea sat on a tray in front of them. There were tissues on Waller’s desk. Ivy had a bad feeling about them.

“Let’s get down to it,” Waller said. “You know by now that your fellow bombshell Harleen Quinzel is MIA. We have received a telegraph approximately an hour ago, from what we suspect are German sources.” She slid a small piece of paper in front of Ivy.

“ENGLISH FORCES BE ADVISED:” it read, “WE HAVE CAPTURED HARLEY QUINN.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: There is a scene where characters are talking in French. I should have just translated this to English, but I'm just proud of the fact that I could write so much dialogue in French and so I kept the original text, but put the English translations right next to it in brackets. There may be errors, as I'm not fluent, but I think everything is ok (and the translation is definitely fine.)

 “I told ya, ya son of a bitch, I ain’t talkin’!”

The room that Harleen had been put in was grimy, with a single, old lamp in the corner of the room. It flickered on and off eerily, but Harley wasn’t fooled. The man sitting across the decrepit table from her didn’t seem worried at all.

“I see. Well, although that’s certainly unfortunate, I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it.” He stood up, picking up his chair and walking to the door.

“And Ms. Quinn?”

Harley looked at him irritably.

“If you happen to feel like sharing, please feel free to let us know.”

He closed the door with a bang. The light flickered out. Harley stared numbly into the darkness.

She was going to die here, of that she was sure. There was no way she was going to tell them about the Bombshells operation. For all that Harley appeared like a dumb blonde bimbo, she knew how much good it could do. She may not have liked Amanda Waller, but there was no denying she was a smart woman. And besides…

If Harley told them about the Bombshells, maybe they'd give her some food or a blanket. But in the end, they would still kill her. And they would have gotten closer to Ivy in the process.

Ivy.

What was she doing? Surely someone had noticed she was gone by now. Was she worried? Or had she gone back to the barracks already for the night—if it was night, course. From the lack of natural light, Harley couldn't tell. Something tightened in her chest at this realization.

Harley had always had a fascination with the sky. She learned everything she could about it- she listened to weather reports as though they were breaking news stories, she got teachers notes to let her into the sections of the library on astronomy and flight and meteorology. The first movie she’d ever gone to see had been _Hell’s Angels_ , about the Royal British Flying Corps in the Great War, after begging her parents for months to let her go to the opening night. The sky made her feel safe. Now, being in a closed in room with no easy exit and no windows, she wondered if she’d survive even without the doubtless beatings and torture to come.

Harley let her thoughts spiral like this— _not gonna survive, not gonna make it, no idea where you are, no way to contact_ anyone—until, finally exhausted, she fell asleep.

* * *

 

Ivy could not sleep.

Waller had assured her that they were doing everything that they could to find Harleen, but the reassurance had been a double-edged sword. No sooner had Ivy begun to feel relief did Waller say to prepare herself for the worst, because-

Ivy couldn't bring herself to think it. No, there was no way. The Germans needed Harley to tell them about the bombshells, they wouldn’t—well, at least not yet, but what if—?

“Pamela?”

Ivy looked up. “Ivy is fine,” she mumbled, only half aware that she was doing so.

“Ivy,” the newcomer said, in a thick, Russian accent. “Can I sit?”

Ivy nodded. She felt the mattress sag a little as the woman sat down.

“I… We may meet before,” she started. “But I… could not speak to you. The English is bad, I apologize.” Ivy looked up to see the woman’s blush.

She was one of the Russian girls obviously—Supergirl, was it?—blonde, long haired, and muscular. She was wearing the army issue pajamas, no jewelry or makeup. Ivy took this all in quickly, before speaking.

“It is ok,” she said simply. “It took me a long time to learn.”

Supergirl frowned. “You… English is… дерьмо!” [Shit!]

“I'm not English, or American. I'm French.” Ivy smiled consolingly. “It is a hard language to learn.”

She laughed. «  _Oui. Pourquoi vous m’avez pas dit que vous êtes Française ?_  » [“Yes. Why didn’t you tell me you’re French?”]

Ivy arched her eyebrows. «  _J’ai su pas que vous parlez Français. Dites-moi, qu'est-ce que vous vous appelez ?_  » [“I didn’t know you spoke French. Tell me, what’s your name?”]

“Kara.”

Ivy allowed herself a reassuring smile. «  _Et Kara, qu’est-ce que vous voulez me dire ?_  » [“And Kara, what do you want to tell me?”] 

Kara seemed to pause for a moment. «  _Harleen est votre petite amie, oui ? »_ [“Harleen is your girlfriend, right?”]

Ivy swallowed and averted her eyes _« Oui. »_

«  _Je peux la trouver._  » [“I can find her.”]

«  _Comment? C’est Allemagne. Ils sont implacables._  » Ivy snapped irritably. «  _Elle reviendra jamais._  » [“How? It’s Germany. They’re relentless," Ivy snapped irritably. “She’ll never come back.”]

Kara reached over slowly to put an arm around Ivy’s shoulders. «  _C’est faux. Elle y reviendra. Je promis. »_ [“That’s wrong. She’ll come back, I promise.”]

“Ives?”

Ivy’s heart ached at the nickname. Selina had walked across the barracks to kneel in front of her friend and place a gentle hand on her knee.

“Ivy, Amanda Waller is an incredibly powerful official. She has resources, friends in high places. She's on top of things. She knows our strengths and our weaknesses. So when she puts Kara on the case, she’s doing it because she knows that Kara is capable of finding Harley. _D’accord_?” [“Ok?”]

Ivy couldn't make herself nod through the tears that had begun to slip down her cheeks. Selina moved to sit by her side and ran her fingers through Ivy’s hair.

“It's alright, Ives,” she said. “And it's okay to cry.”

There were a few moments of relative silence as Ivy sobbed. Kara spoke up.

“I must to go to Madame Waller,” she said. «  _Mademoiselle Ivy, nous trouverons ta Harley_. » [“Ms. Ivy, we’ll find your Harley.”]

An image of Harley kneeling in front of her and asking “Red, doncha wanna rev up yer Harley?” flashed through Ivy's head, and she smiled in spite of it all.

«  _Merci, Kara. »_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life :)  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Harleen's head throbbed.

She opened her eyes to see that the ugly light in the corner had been turned on again. Something pounded behind her eyes. She shut her eyes again.

“The maiden is awake, I see,” said a voice. Harley’s eyes snapped back open again.

In front of her sat the man from the night before. He had a patronizing smile pasted on his face, and it made Harley sick to her stomach. She remembered the other person who used to smile at her like that. It wasn't a good memory.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked, as though they were discussing the weather, or coffee preferences. Harley glowered.

“You son of a whore,” she growled. “You won't be getting anything from me.”

He smiled again, that terrible, creepy smile. “Well now, that's no way to talk to a friend. I'm sure you'll warm up to me, darling.”

Harley said nothing. She continued to glare at him.

“Not one for talking this morning?” He inquired—and there was no other way to describe it. “That's alright. Let’s start where we were previously, alright?" He ruffled through the stack of papers in front of him. “Now Ms. Quinn, would you remind me who you work for? It seems to have gotten quite lost in all these notes.”

“I never told you who I worked for,” Harley growled, managing to hold back the curses on the tip of her tongue.

He frowned, but not angrily. “Hm, I do recall that now. Now that I think of it, I can hardly recall what we discussed at all. Who were your affiliates again?”

Harley glared. “There’s no point to this line of reasoning,” she spat. “I didn’t tell you shit. Is it coming back to you now?”

“There’s no need to be unpleasant, Ms. Quinn,” he said, a warning note in his voice. “Of course, I remember. Our discussion was rather fruitless. Would bringing a scalpel into this conversation help it progress?”

“You can’t scare me. I’ve been tortured before.”

That earned an arch of the man’s eyebrows. “Goodness, that sounds terrible. I’d hate for it to happen again. By whom, if I may ask?”

“Crazy ex-boyfriend,” she said, rolling her eyes. She was stalling.

“Who is now in prison, I assume?”

She grinned bitterly. “Oh, you nevah heard ‘a my Mistah J, have ya?” She asked, letting her old New York accent back in full blow. _Stall, stall, this isn’t anything he doesn’t know._

His other eyebrow joined its pair. “‘Mistah J?’”

“You don’t have pet names?” She asked. “Oh, wait, I forgot. Being a douche is a full-time job.”

The man’s eyebrows fell and he narrowed his eyes. “Mind your attitude, Ms. Quinn.”

Harley snorted. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings? Maybe if you untie me, I’ll kiss it better for you.”

He’s glaring now. “They warned me you were annoying, but I seem to have underestimated.”

“What can I say?” Harley quirked a cold smile. “It’s a talent.”

“How do you feel about your ex?” He asked.

Harley cocked her head. “Bit of a non-sequitur, isn’t it? He’s worse than you on the asshole scale, if that tells you anything.”

The man nodded, having gone eerily calm, like a cat about to pounce on its prey. “Does he scare you?”

She didn’t like that line of thought. “Maybe, maybe not. He’s not here, what difference does it make?”

He looked her dead in the eyes. “What if he was?”

“Are we discussing hypotheticals, or are we having a conversation?”

“It’s not a hypothetical, Ms. Quinn.”

Harley’s heart pounded in her chest. The man in front of her stood, and walked to the door. _No, he’s lying, he must be, Joker always said he’d never—_

“Well hello there, pumpkin,” he said. “Long time, no see!”

“Stay the  _fuck_ away from me.”

He grinned. “No can do, honey bear. We’ve got things to talk about.”

“You said you’d never join them!” Harley exclaimed.

The Joker laughed, loud and old-timey villain sounding as ever. “Oh, Harley,” he cooed. “Haven’t you learned by now that I lie? Besides—” He stood suddenly. “Sometimes, the lure of torturing just gets too great. And I get to do it in _Paris_ none-the-less! Free reign, whoever I want! It’s PARADISE!” He threw his hands out, then turned down to glare at Harley. “Especially over you.”

Harley’s heart stopped hammering and instead jumped to her throat. “No.”

“Oh, my dear, _yes_! I mean, just look—" The Joker pushed the door to her room open further and rolled in a cart. “Just LOOK at all this! Rusty knives! Scalpels! Ice picks! Whips! And there’s so much more that doesn’t fit here.” His voice dropped to a growl. “Gas chambers, iron maidens—and you know old countries are filled with torture museums. They’ve let me have _all of it_ Harls—"

“You don’t get to call me that,” she snarled.

“I can call you whatever I want sweetums. I’m the one with the cattle prod.” He in closer and closer and she could feel his breath on her cheek and she screamed—

“Enough!”

Harley’s head shot up as the Joker collapsed in front of her, and saw a woman standing in his place. She tried to respond, but her brain had short circuited.

“Harley Quinn?” Asked the Russian accented voice. Harley nodded dumbly. “We need to go. We can talk later.”

The other girl quickly broke her bonds and helped her to her feet, grip strong. She pulled Harley to her side.

“I am told to take you away for now,” she said. “Madame Waller will send more later. I must to punch the building.”

“What?”

She shook her head. “No time. No move!”

Harley gave up and decided to follow her advice, whether or not it made sense. She put her arms around the girl and closed her eyes, and they flew up.

Harley couldn’t help but flinch as she heard cement break above her head, once, twice, three times and then felt the frigid air on her face. She looked down at the hole they'd created.

“Was needed,” the terrifyingly powerful girl stated. She shifted Harley so she was in a bridal carry.

Harley felt faint. “Oh.”

She frowned. “We… not meet before?”

“Don’t think so.”

The girl processed her words for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. I am Kara. Madame Waller sent me.”

“Am I not important enough for a rescue team?”

Kara frowned. “I… do not understand.”

“Learning English?” Harley asked. She looked away from the rapidly disappearing complex to glance at her rescuer, who nodded again. “That’s alright, it wasn’t important. Where are we going?”

Kara’s gaze remained on the ground ahead of them. “Base. Of your little friend, Ivy.”

A realization popped up in Harley’s paranoid mind. “Ivy? Why isn’t she here? Is she—"

“Mademoiselle Ivy is fine,” Kara reassured. “She… I am more strong than her, so I came. And I think she does not want to see Paris now. I am Russian, to me Paris is bad always.”

Harley laughed. “Don’t like the romance?”

“Nyet,” Kara said primly. “Russians not have romance.”

Harley just shook her head. Without meaning to, she yawned.

“Sleep now,” Kara told her. “It will be long until we get back.”

“Oh, but—” She yawned again. “Maybe you’ve got a point.”

Reluctantly, Harley closed her eyes. She leaned her head against her rescuer’s chest and was asleep in minutes.

* * *

When Harley woke, they were descending. Kara’s eyes were darting around them, probably making sure they weren’t being trailed.

“Hey, super girl,” Harley said. “Anything happen while I was asleep?”

Kara frowned. “Super… girl?”

Harley shrugged. “I mean, you’ve got superpowers and a giant ‘S’ on your chest. Seems like a super girl to me.”

“It is… nice.” Kara looked around them again. “We are there almost.”

Kara took them lower, into the clouds. Harley resisted the urge to try and grab a piece of the sky for Ivy.

Oh god, Ivy. Even though it had probably barely been over 24 hours, Harley had missed her desperately. Sure, they’d been apart from each other for missions before, but that was different. The idea of being stuck in that cell, dying without ever getting to see her girlfriend again… it made her think of Ivy in a different light. Even if at one point, their relationship could have just been a fling, Harley couldn’t imagine ever living without Ivy.

“I see your little friend,” Kara said casually as they escaped the clouds, but there was a lightness to her tone. “Oh! She sees us as well.”

“Harley!” Ivy shouted from below them.

Harley looked down. About 40 feet below them, Ivy’s green skin made her easily visible on the gray runway.

“Hey, ground!” Harley replied cheekily.

“Get your ass down here, tyro!” Ivy called back. Kara’s feet touched the ground, and both girls sprinted to each other. They crashed into a hug.

“Harley, I swear to God, if you ever do that again—”

Ivy cut herself off and cupped her hands around Harley’s face, pulling her into a rough kiss. They both moved back, breathing heavily, and Harley grinned at her.

“I missed you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've reached the end!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if there are any grammatical errors


End file.
